spit a wad of blood onto the porch. “Now, lady.”
Zach held out an arm and blocked her path. “Stay right where you are.”
“You don’t want to fight me,” Johnnie said.
Zach held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right. So, why don’t you put the gun down?”
If she hadn’t been watching Zach so closely she might not have seen the sharp blade peek out from the edge of his shirtsleeve.
“No deal,” Johnnie said.
“I’m going to put my hands down.”
“Fine, man, but I ain’t dropping the gun.”
“Well, hell, just don’t shoot me by accident.” The hard edge left Zach’s voice, as if he were joking with a friend instead of staring down the barrel of a gun with an idiot attached to the other end. “I don’t know any woman worth being shot for, do you?”
Johnnie hesitated, then let out a cackling laugh. Within seconds the obscene sound turned to a wheezing cough. “Only good for one thing.”
Zach frowned at the other man. “You okay?”
“Let’s hope not,” she mumbled under her breath.
Johnnie tried to suck in air. “I think you broke my rib.”
Zach whistled through clenched teeth. “Man, I start fighting and something takes over.”
“You’re insane when you throw punches.”
“You have no idea.” Zach lowered his hands at the same time Johnnie eased his grip on the gun.
As soon as Johnnie pointed the barrel toward the cracked wooden porch, Zach brought his arm down in an arc and sent the knife slicing through the air. The blade shot in a direct line and lodged with a sickening thud in Johnnie’s shoulder.
He squealed as his gun fell to the hard floor and his body slammed into the porch post. In a flurry of profanity, he slipped to the ground. A crimson stain seeped from around the new wound.
Sela wanted to run, but her legs wouldn’t move. Too much of her energy went to keep from screaming. She didn’t have anything left in that second for an escape.
Zach kicked Johnnie’s gun, sending it sliding off the edge of the porch. In the next breath, Zach snatched his supposedly lost gun from behind his back and aimed it at Johnnie. “Don’t you ever threaten her again.”
Johnnie heaved and coughed. “Whatcha want with her?”
“That’s my business.”
Wrong, it was her business. And not knowing provided the perfect reason to get the hell out of there. She inched back toward the wall and started to do just that. If she could keep Zach focused on Johnnie, she had a chance to escape. To where, she had no idea. Preferably somewhere without a gun.
“Don’t even think about it, Sela.”
She froze at the sound of Zach’s husky voice. “What?”
“Whatever it is you’re planning in that head of yours.”
“I didn’t… I…”
“You’re coming inside with me.”
Wrong, wrong, wrong. She’d tried playing along. Maybe begging would work. “Let me go, Zach, please.”
“This isn’t a bargain.” He grabbed her elbow. “We have some things to talk about.”
She tried to break his hold but wasn’t any more successful this time than the last. “You’re going to regret this.”
“I have no doubt.”
Chapter Four
Trevor Walters paced the length of his office from the door to the windows towering behind his desk. With every step, the memory of the call played in his mind. The toneless whisper of the male voice and the threat.
It is over. All ends will be tied.
That was three weeks ago. Three weeks after the WitSec mess screamed to a halt and he reached a tenuous new peace agreement with the Recovery Project. Even now he waited for the windows to implode and the agents to storm in with guns at the ready.
Except for the soft hum of the computers set up on the credenza, the executive suite remained quiet. The main offices one floor down buzzed with the usual decreased level of weekend-morning activity. His was an around-the-clock business. He set strategies in place for businesses that sent employees into dangerous locations. He could handle the worst, often did.
Ever since Recovery agent Adam Wright breached the office’s security and infiltrated Trevor’s office with weapons aimed at his head, no one got up on the private elevator and his floor without his express approval. He hadn’t granted it to anyone except the two guards stationed by the elevator. Visitors or Orion employees trying to get in would need the security codes and the guts to get through men with guns.
Except for Sela. She worked on the floor. She belonged there.
Being at work on a Sunday wasn’t unusual for him, but he was there on this Sunday, at this predawn hour, because she called with an emergency. Since starting as his assistant almost a year before, she’d been consistent. His most loyal supporter. As his life fell apart and his ex-wife raged in the newspapers about the need to limit his access to their son, Sela stood strong.
She ignored the whispered comments about sleeping with the boss and concentrated on her work. In return, he piled even more responsibility on her. She was the only one who knew about the extent of his surveillance on the Recovery agents. She coordinated the information he gathered and kept her mouth shut.
She was a valued assistant. And she was running late today. That never happened. From the wobble in her voice, the rushed words over the phone a few hours earlier, he knew something had happened.
Now she didn’t answer her home phone or cell. Her desk chair was empty and she didn’t leave a message after the one begging him to come to the office immediately.
She was missing.
Sela, with her integral knowledge of his dealings, could very well be a loose end to be tied. Her death would guarantee her silence and his.
Trevor didn’t waste another minute. He slipped between his desk and his chair. Typing in the code to his bottom right drawer, he opened the small safe and pulled out the gun. He brushed his fingers over the cool metal. The weapon felt good in his hands, solid.
He ran a multi-million-dollar business, but he wasn’t the type to just sit behind a desk. He’d taken the time to learn how to shoot. And he would use those skills to protect Sela. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.
SELA SAT ON THE COUCH and rubbed her knee. The chair barricading the door ensured she couldn’t get out before Zach could get to her.
But
